


Lovesong

by motoroilfreeway



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, siren au, siren!UK, sirens eat people trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motoroilfreeway/pseuds/motoroilfreeway
Summary: Alfred’s family lives in a small community by the shore whose main source of income is fishing so everyone is a fisherman. They are also very superstitious especially when it comes to the siren lore. Alfred’s family is infamous in their village because of his late father, who had once fallen for a siren’s song, costing him his life and causing grief to his grandmother.Years later, whenever he’s out fishing at night, he notices a strange presence following him close behind.





	1. Chapter 0

**Author's Note:**

> This is a usuk siren au I have been playing around with (since the dawn of time lol) on my hetalia tumblr (aph-nitroplush). Like everything I have on this is posted in there, which is why they come in short chapters.  
> Took me a while to decide whether or not I'll publish on ao3 but here it is anyway. My laptop and tablet broke down a couple of months ago and I still havent got a replacement so I'll prolly stick to writing for a while...tho it's going to be V E R Y limited because my uncle makes me take 30 units of school work every semester, unlike the usual 12-15. It's a lot, basically.

               There’s something in the waters.

It moves slowly, gently…sliding in the water like an elegant snake. Its movements barely make a disturbance in the water to be noticed. The sea was quiet.

Awfully so.

Alfred finds himself gasping, lungs burning for the lack of oxygen to burn. He finds himself involuntarily standing up from where he lies; the bamboo cold on his sweat-drenched back. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep---in the raft out here in the cold, of all places. He wheezes and then coughs when he feels his throat too dry. The pain makes the backs of his eyes prickle with tears, his body shaking against the water’s cool breeze. He felt himself tremble again when he coughs out a hefty amount of water---salt water---on his final cough. It felt like he was drowning underwater, but a quick check on himself, he finds his body dry.

He stands up on unsteady legs, the fear and disbelief making his body shudder and his skin prickle from the unusually colder-than-usual air. Bringing his lamp close to himself, he walks around the raft, pointing the dim light of his gas lamp close to the edges, looking for something amiss in the waters.

The waters, however, reveal nothing but an endless abyss of darkness. It gives the illusion that the depths can go on for forever, when in reality, Alfred knows that it was merely a few feet deep. He wasn’t that far from the shore.

When he failed to find anything suspicious, he finds himself confused and opts to mess with his hair as he grabs a thick line of rope attached to one of the raft’s foundation that makes up the raft’s roof to pull at his fishing boat.

It’s not long now before the sun starts to rise in the horizon. He needs to go farther out if he wanted a good catch today.

As he speeds his boat farther into the sea, he did not see a figure slowly reveal itself beside the raft, right by the post where he tied his fishing boat to.

It looks human, save for the dark pools of black it has for eyes, its face expressionless. Alfred’s retreating back reflected on its black eyes. Its hand, pale with long bony fingers slowly grasp at the abandoned raft’s side. It makes a small sound as the creature’s long fingernails, sharp and thick and as dark as its eyes, tap at the wood. A long, thick appendage reveals itself behind it, swishing slowly but agitatedly as its hand tightens its grasp on the raft, making small marks on the dark wood but was left unnoticeable in the dark.

It’s a siren.

Unbeknownst to Alfred, a melody was singing in the back of his mind, imprinted.

The sea hums a low tune, singing in accordance to the siren’s song.

A new song is being written.

 


	2. Chapter 1

               “Al! Hey! Jesus Christ, man, what the fuck---!”

Alfred jumps awake when he felt sea water enter through his nose and he chokes as he sits up. He coughs and gags, feeling like his lungs are burning for air and he realises that his body is cold and his skin is burning hot. There’s a person right above him who is starting to go down on their knees to level with him, their hands grasping his shoulders and shaking him frantically. He coughs some more, unable to open his eyes for a moment to see who it was.

“Alfred! What the fuck!”

He recognises that voice.

“...Matt?” He chokes out, squinting his eyes open. He realises he isn’t wearing his glasses and that the sun is up, burning through his eyes and making his skin boil hot.

“Yeah, it’s me. Who the fuck else? Christ, Grandma has been going nuts looking for you since this morning when you didn’t return to the docks for trade.”

“What?” Alfred feels himself ask, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He tries to remember the last few hours of his life, and to his horror, he couldn’t.

It’s gone. Like a pitch-black void where one looks and sees what it’s truly like forgets the moment they look away. Alfred kept on seeing an image, a figure of sorts, but all his mind can deduct from that are swirly after-images of grey smoke in the dark, quick and ethereal.

Thinking through them, trying to unearth the missing memories made Alfred’s head swim, his vision spins and suddenly he feels sick, terribly so.

He hurls.

Unfortunately, his cousin was the nearest target and he was drenched waist-down.

“Fuck! Fuck, what the fuck---!” He hears his cousin cuss behind his closed eyes. He sounded like he’s in the brink of tears---the frustrated kind when he tries his best not to cry when things get too horrible for his fragile heart to take.

“Christ what the fuck happened out there? And where’s your boat? ...Shit, Grandma is _so_ gonna flip her shit.”

“I... don’t feel so good, Matt.” He manages to groan. Feels his body fall over, about to crash back into the sand and maybe get carried around by the waves and into the depths, and for some reason, his soul finds peace with the thought of lying in stasis in the middle of the cold, never-ending darkness and he thinks he should be disturbed, very much so at this fact but he didn’t. It was all just peace. Contentment.

Then the feeling vanishes, the feelings in his stomach gets replaced with nausea, guilt, and regret. Like it was his own fault for not allowing the world to take its course and let Alfred be taken by the waves. He feels himself about to hurl again and he does.

“Hell no. No. No. Nope.” He hears his cousin say. His voice sounded like he was in a very faraway place.

He wanted to apologise, but he couldn’t find his voice to do so.

“Ugh, thank God, it’s dry...” He hears his cousin sigh in relief.

“Matt, I...” For the third time that day, Alfred hurls. It isn’t dry like last time, but it wasn’t his stomach’s contents either like the first time.

It’s water. No, Alfred thinks when he manages to taste it on his tongue as the water continued to flow uncontrollably from his mouth.

It’s sea water.

Tons of it, that the fishermen along the shore started to gather and run towards him as his cousin shouted and screamed for help.

It felt like eternity, feeling water flow out of his mouth, drip out of his nose. It’s so painful that he started tearing up, more so when men started to grab him by the arms and pull him up to stand. More water started to gush out of him, like he’s some kind of cotton that absorbed too much water after being soaked in one for so long.

Then more pain started penetrating him, through his lungs that he finally lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter 2

               Alfred spent all his life in a small isolated island where everyone knew everyone. The people, being too close to the sea and nothing else, had also spent the rest of their lives fishing to make ends meet---not that there’s much to worry about when money’s involved, unless you plan to leave and try your luck in the mainland, where cities exist and bigger opportunities await.

It’s probably just his Grandmother’s luck that her favourite grandson did not want much else other than fish and trade that she never did anything to her grandson’s strange tendencies to spend most of his nights on his boat, floating around in the dark and away from the docks. She never asked for the right questions, such as what keeps Alfred from going back time and time again; or what _exactly_ does he do at night in his boat to the point that he forgets to return home and ends up spending the night in there, with nothing but the breeze and the dark and the water below him for company.

When Matthew came home in a panic with a couple of other fishermen carrying her grandson home to her, face pale and body wet with sea water---skin ice-cold and limbs shaking----at the back of her mind, she tells herself with regret: she should’ve asked, should’ve begged for Alfred to stop and just stay with her until it’s time for him to leave to fish. Maybe she should’ve told Matthew to be more stubborn when it comes to persuading his cousin to fish with him, so that he wouldn’t be left alone in the sea---

\---Vulnerable.

“Gran, something’s wrong with Alfred!” Matthew screams, face just as pale as his cousin’s. Martha guides Matthew and the others to her living room and gestures to the couch, where they can lie Alfred down as she runs further inside to gather some dry towels, and get something warm. Her hands tremble as she rummages through the closet and ends up bringing over five towels, all thick and huge and enough to drown a child.

“W-what happened?” She asks, handing some of the towels for Matthew, who was drenched as well but not Alfred’s extent. Some of the men that helped carry Alfred home had left, but some had remained out of curiosity and worry. She asks for help to lift her grandson up to wrap a towel around him properly after getting his wet shirt removed. His breathing seemed normal, but his body is pale and his skin is cold, like they were soaked in ice...or had been underwater for so long. His hair smelled of the sea, and it makes her stomach turn into a set of unsteady coils.

“I, I don’t know, exactly. He just suddenly had a coughing fit, then water started gushing out of his mouth like crazy---I, I don’t know what to do.” Matthew looks around with uncertainty towards the others, hands squeezing the towel he’s holding anxiously, he asks for confirmation if what he had seen had been true. “It’s weird, but it’s what really happened, Gran.”

“...Sea water?” She asks eyes wide as she stares at her grandson’s pitiful form, still unconscious and pale. Matthew had been expecting some denial of sorts, about what he and the rest had seen in the shore, so what comes out of his grandmother’s mouth surprises him as well. He blinks, jumping from his seat, “H, huh?”

“Could he be vomiting sea water?” She asks, voice low. She’s afraid for it to be true.

One of the men in the group perks up. He’s the oldest, only a couple of decades younger than Mather herself, and the expression on his face was grim. Martha wonders if she had that same expression right now, as he begins, “That could be...possible. We weren’t able to know, exactly, but...it could be. Martha,” His head shakes, “You need to call Elise.”

At this, the rest reacted. They shook their heads and turned away, unable to look the family in the eyes. Matthew was confused, and he asks, “What, what does that mean? Who’s Elise?”

Matthew’s question was met with silence. Their gazes shifted to him, then some shook their heads some more. The fisherman that spoke first went to Martha and said, “I’ll have my son bring Elise here to check for your grandson.” His eyes turn sympathetic as he puts a hand on her shoulder, “Be strong.”

Martha nods, feeling her eyes get wet with tears. But she listens to the advice and inhales, forcing them at bay. She’ll remain strong for Alfred’s sake, and Matthew’s.

Then the fisherman gives her one last smile before he leads the rest out of the house, leaving Matthew alone with his grandmother and cousin.

It takes a while before he’s able to say something again, eyes wide and confused, “Who’s Elise, Gran? She a doctor?”

She reaches for Alfred’s hand, wrapping it around hers in the hopes that her warmth could bring the heat back in that cold limb. She replies to Matthew, “You can say that. She’s Mario’s daughter---the shaman before her.”

“Shaman?” Matthew blinks. Martha thinks it’s justified to see a reaction out of Matthew like that. He’s young, and compared to Alfred, he spent some of his childhood in the mainland before his parents took him to the island to live permanently as fishermen, away from the noise and the lights. It made Matthew unaware of the things the locals of the island are used to. Things had been quiet for the past couple of years, but the locals all knew that it’s too early to expect anything yet.

“Yes,” She nods, and patiently, she stares into Matthew’s eyes, wide and bright and purple. “She’s the only one who can help your cousin right now, I think.”


	4. Chapter 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A siren is born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNBETA'ED

               There are many stories talking about sirens; on how they are beasts wearing the coat of a beautiful maiden to attract unsuspecting sailors into their bosoms, stealing the hearts of many before they eat feast on their soft flesh. Their voices will be the last thing one would hear before death; heard through a song that was beautifully and flawlessly spun out of thin air---this is said to be the siren’s strongest weapon.

In the case of the people of this island; the legends ring true, but not quite one would expect.

Back then, he was but a spirit; not even a “he” to begin with, as he was something born from sea foam---a story most would be familiar with, and he supposes it has it’s truths as this is how his kind is born---a nameless, clueless spirit, who at that time, upon his birth has only come to know one thing: he’s hungry.

He awakens to the dark of the sky, no cloud in sight and upon the waves of the sea around him. He floats for a while on the surface, raising his limbs to get a look at the physical form he has manifested into, and silently gazes at the black, elongated things attached on the ends of his fingers.

Then all of a sudden, the ripples in the water doesn’t make sense.

He startles, tail sways and he sinks into the water immediately, smooth like he’s always been a part of it himself---which he had been, before.

Gently, he turns; until his chest faces the bottom of the sea and he takes a moment to turn his gaze back up to the direction whatever it is has created that movement. He can feel it move, drifting and not-so life-like through the water and he follows slowly with gently sways of his tail, his hands lying limp on his sides, following through the flow of water against his skin.

Later, he sees it: an object. Upon closer inspection, he sees a pair of limbs dipped into the water, swaying gently, making the same ripples he had felt before, a couple of miles away from where he had originally been. He had been initially drawn because of the foreign feeling, but now, it’s nothing but hunger. He’s hungry.

He feels his mouth widen, razor-sharp teeth bursting out of his originally toothless gums. Slowly, he approaches.

Out of his curiosity, he raises his head, only enough to show his eyes to get a good look at his prey.

Big mistake.

There, in front of him, is the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. This, of course, he knows is because this is literally the first creature he ever had an encounter with since his birth, but he thinks that even if that wasn’t the case, he knew that this creature here is beautiful. He suddenly had the urge to have it, to covet it, to own it.

To love it with all of his beings.

Then devour it and feel their flesh and remains in his stomach, warm and satisfying.

He isn’t as far as he had thought he was; upon raising his head to get a better look, some form of illumination coming from what he now recognises as a raft made him visible to the creature to see. It jumps, startled at his form. They look similar, him and this creature but at the same time he knows that they are different. This one doesn’t have gills that allows him to breathe in the water, nor webbings in their hands to let them swim faster into the depths---to chase their prey better---and he has two long limbs instead of a long flexible tail.

Despite his appearance, this creature did not run away. Instead, he breathes, then slowly, puts his limbs back into the water, slow and careful. He couldn’t tell if its because it was wary of him---if he would jump and pull at its legs to carry it down with him into the depths, drown it and then finally feast on its flesh. But in his mind, no, he wouldn’t do that.

He wouldn’t want to see the look of terror and betrayal on this creature’s face.

It would come with him willingly, whole-heartedly without a single ounce of regret in its heart because it will be an honour, to give itself to him, offer its flesh for him to devour and they will become one.

“Hello?” The creature says. Initially, sirens do not speak human language and upon hearing this creature that the siren has yet to know is what they call human, flinches from his spot. His large black eyes reflect the creature’s form, it’s eyes are bright as they make a noise of inquiry.

In the siren’s confusion, he makes a hasty retreat: jumping backwards into the depths and swims away, as far as he could, his heart beating fast in his chest as he does so.

The human, clueless and almost afraid, watches with large eyes as the strange creature suddenly disappears, but not before revealing a beautiful black, sleek, scaled tail decorated with a large, bony sail before leaving him alone once again with the sea: the water dark and deep and the moon bright as it illuminates what remains beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raise your hands if you have been expecting the "cannibalism" bc I am motoroilfreeway

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the rest of the usuk siren au content [here](http://aph-nitroplush.tumblr.com/tagged/usuk%20siren%20au). Warnings for possible spoilers.


End file.
